


Working Title

by Toobadsosad



Category: One Piece, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit, But He Gets Better, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Haki (One Piece), Hurt Stiles, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Scott is a Bad Friend, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out, Slow Burn, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Is Bad at Feelings, Stiles is Pushed Out of the Pack, but its not graphic, stiles is bad touched
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 04:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12203472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toobadsosad/pseuds/Toobadsosad
Summary: Stiles is pushed out of the pack after the whole kidnapping by Argent incident and that Kanima fiasco. He's hurt and upset that nobody notices apart from his father, whom he cannot tell.  With the pack ignoring him, he's again kidnapped by Gerard,  only the sheriff notices he's gone but with a steady stream of texts from Stiles' number is duped into thinking he's staying at Scott's. How will he escape? Will the pack figure out in time?Or the fic where Stiles gets a devil fruit and is a haki beast.





	Working Title

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfic so yay, pls review or even just leave a comment that tells me what a piece shit i am for creating this monstrosity.

Stiles sits down on his bed and crawls under his sheets with a painful sigh. He closes his eyes and tries to fall to sleep, but again, as was happening more and more frequently in the past eight days, he found that sleep evaded him despite how utterly exhausted he was. He hears his father's cruiser pull up in the driveway, back from his shift. Stiles hears his father open and close the front door and shuffle about as he sets something down on the kitchen counter. So he’d gone to the shops before coming home, that’s good, Stiles thought, they had been running low on milk. As his father sets about opening and closing cabinet doors, putting the shopping away, Stiles uses all of his willpower not to stumble out of bed and downstairs and tell his father everything that had happened, what actually happened, and not the lie he had fed to him about some kids from another team beating him up for mouthing off. But Stiles had decided that night eight days ago that no one else could know what had happened to him, and Stiles was nothing if not stubborn.  
…  
Eight days earlier  
… 

Stiles sucked in large, painful breaths as he limped down the darkened school hallways after having picked open the door. He was naked save for a pair of almost ruined underwear. He had limped all the way from the car wreck to the high school almost a mile and half away. Thankfully it was late at night, or early in the morning, and so no one was out to see the boy who had been tortured half to death limp along the side of the road. As he reached his destination, he reached out and tested the door handle, Stiles thanked whatever deity for taking pity on him as the nurse's office was unlocked.

He stumbled inside and grabbed whatever he thought he might need; bandages, stitches, ice, antiseptic solution and a whole lotta painkillers. He swallowed two tablets of the strongest painkillers he could find dry, and then pocketed two bottles of the stuff before he made his way to the locker rooms. 

He switched the lights on and set the medical supplies down on one of the benches. He hobbled to the showers, then stripped out of the tattered underwear. He turned the showers on full blast on high heat, he wasn’t going to enjoy this but he knew he had in order to clean and disinfect his wounds as best he could. Stiles gingerly stepped under the spray. He cringed as the water seared his skin. The wounds on his back burned. 

He stood under the shower head for about five minutes, the pain that radiated from his back paralysed him. Finally as the painkillers kicked in, he became numb enough. He scrubbed his hair to get the dirt out as best he could, then moved on to the rest of his body, he paid special attention to the terrible gash on his arm, the lashes on his back still stung something fierce, and bending down to reach his legs hurt his ribs too much, so he left those alone. Stiles was dreading what came next, but he knew that he needed to check. He also knew that if he thought about what Gerard and his men had done to him, what they had taken from him, he would have broken down and wouldn't be able to bring himself to continue, and so he conducted himself clinically, as if he were a professional treating a patient. He spread his cheeks apart with one hand and with the other carefully prodded his sore and abused hole, it still burned but he found that his other injuries were more worrisome. He tried pushing the semen that was still inside out, once he felt he had gotten most of it, he washed his backside, and then shut the water off, done with the shower.

He stepped back out of the showers and shuffled to the benches. He sat down on the bench and went to work on his many injuries. First, he stitched up the long gash on his forearm, he used rubbing alcohol to disinfect the wound, it took twenty-seven stitches to close it up. Secondly, he bandaged the whip marks on his back, some of them were still bleeding and he figured he might need stitches in some, but he could not do those by himself so he left them, simply soaking the cuts in alcohol and covering them with gauze. His wrists were red and raw, from the chains biting into his skin, some parts were still bleeding were the skin was mangled, Stiles decided that he would need some stitches, for some of the deeper cuts. 

Finished with the deeper lacerations, Stiles moved onto his leg, which was swollen and looked almost twice as big as it should have been. He figured it wasn’t broken as he had been able to walk on it, albeit with a lot of pain, but it might have been fractured, he didn't know what to do with it. In the end he simply put some ice packs on it and wrapped it in some bandages to hold them in place. He did the same with his ribs, which were very badly bruised, if not broken. His neck was bruised from when he had been hung and his throat was sore from when the men had forced themselves down his throat. He knew he’d end up with a black eye and he’d had a split lip. But he couldn’t do anything about those at the moment. 

Done with the major injuries, he opened his own locker and took out a change of clothes, thankful that the hunters had taken him just after the game, before he’d gotten changed out of his Lacrosse uniform. He dressed as fast as he could, grateful for his lack of fashion sense, as the clothes were loose and hid the bandages.

Stiles made his way back to the nurse's office, while he threw the now empty rubbing alcohol bottle away and some of the spent supplies. He reached the nurse's office and cleaned up a bit to cover his tracks and grabbed some more supplies as he knew he’d need to change the bandages occasionally.

Finally, Stiles left the school building, ensured the door locked behind him, and hobbled to his jeep, still parked in the school parking lot, waiting for him since the game earlier that evening. Stiles felt as though the match happened a lifetime ago, so much had happened in the hours since.

Stiles drove back to his house in a bit of a daze. His father's car was home and the lights were on. He dreaded seeing his dad, no doubt he had been worried sick about him, and he couldn't tell him what had happened.

Stiles opened the front door quietly and heard his dad pacing on the phone with someone.

“... it's been hours and no one has seen him. Just tell me if he does turn up at the hospital… Yes, thanks Melissa,” his dad hung up the phone but continued to mutter to himself, “Come on Stiles, where are you?”

“Hey dad, sorry I had you so worried,” Stiles apologized.

The sheriff spun around and marched over to Stiles, “Stiles I’ve been worried sick,” he pulled Stiles into a hug and Stiles was grateful he didn’t notice the flinch. Noah sees his son's face and the black eye and split lip, though doesn't notice his other extensive injuries,” What happened to you?”

Stiles gave a weak laugh and a crooked smile to his dad, “Just some kids from the other team, I was mouthing off to them.” 

The sheriff looked skeptically at Stiles and sighed, “look, I can tell that you're lying to me Stiles, at this point I don't expect the truth about what happened, but can you at least tell me if you're OK?”

Stiles felt ashamed, he could tell his father was dissapointed in him, concerned, but dissapointed, "Yeah dad, I'm fine, just a few cuts and bruises,” he lied, a lump formed in his throat.

Noah relaxed slightly, but instead turned a stern glare on his son, "Are you sure you don't want to tell me the truth?" 

Stiles grimaced and looked down at his feet, "I'm sorry, I can't."

Noah sighed, he needed to get to the station, “I have shift, I need to go, promise me you're fine?"

“Sure.”

Noah walked out the front door with a “Seeya in the morning.” 

He couldn't help but feel a little hurt by how he'd been brushed off like that, couldn't his father see how much pain he was in, he stamped the hurt down, he told himself it was better if he didn't know. How could he tell his dad that his crazy headmaster had kidnapped him, tortured him, and then sexually assaulted him, without telling him about werewolves and all that jazz. Besides, he probably deserved it, even he knew he was being a shitty son. 

Stiles sighed, he wished his father had stayed behind, but he recognised that it was better to see as little as possible of his dad. He trudged upstairs to his room.

He picked his phone up from the bedside table and sat gently on his bed. He unlocked his phone and checked his messages; 36 messages from Scott. Stiles gave a small chuckle, trust Scott to keep on messaging him. He read the first few messages, Scott asking him where he was. But then he scrolled down to the rest of the messages and grew increasingly angry, Scott was going on about how Jackson had died and then come back to life as this super kanima and Derek had bitten Gerard and Stiles needed to bring Lydia to the warehouse where all this shit had gone down because she might be able to save Jackson. By the end of it Stiles was seething with rage. Scott hadn't been looking for him, he hadn't even noticed something was wrong. Gerard was right, no one had been coming for him, no one had been coming to save him, no one really cared about him. Stiles told himself to calm down, from the sounds of things it was a busy evening, it was unfair to blame Scott.

Someone knocked at the door downstairs, Stiles made his way slowly to the front door. He opened it and found Lydia on the other side, “Hey,” Stiles greeted, lacking the usual enthusiasm, “ how are you?”

“Oddly enough, not great,” Lydia replied, her voice wobbled, she had clearly been crying, her eyes red and puffy. Unsurprising, she’d just watched her boyfriend die.

Stiles nodded and moved to invite her in, he asked if she wanted anything, she shook her head and instead sat down on one of the couches. “Look,” she started, “I know you and Scott are involved in something, and I think Jackson is… was a part of it to.”

Stiles sighed, he knew he would have to explain. “Come on, I'll explain on the way,” he told her.  
…

“So, werewolves are real…” Lydia began with healthy dose of apprehension, Stiles nodded, “and Jackson is a kanima, which is a lizard monster.” Stiles nodded again.

Their destination was just a minute away. At that moment Stiles's Phone beeped in his pocket, he looked at it, it was a message from Scott telling him to hurry up. Stiles brushed off the anger he felt and turned the next corner. There it was, the warehouse. Stiles blinked, and for a moment everything turned black, save for a few glowing blobs in the distance where the warehouse should have stood, and one right next to him, each a different colour. 

He somehow knew each blob represented a different person, like their aura. Then he blinked and everything went back to normal. Stiles was shocked, but mentally shook himself, as the warehouse rapidly approached. He aimed his jeep for where he saw Jackson and stepped on the gas. He drove his jeep through the wall, taking Jackson out in the process. Stiles shut off the engine as Lydia got out of the jeep. He watched as Lydia declared her true love for Jackson and that cured him of his killer slave lizard faze and turned him into a proper werewolf. Stiles was pretty sure that if the painkillers hadn't been starting to wear off, he'd have been heartbroken. At that moment however, he couldn't bring himself to care. 

Stiles saw Derek marching up to him looking royally pissed. He cringed, when Derek reached him, he had expected to be slammed into side of his jeep. Instead, Derek stops just a few feet away and said, “What are you doing here? You're not pack. This isn't your business.”

And that, oof, that hurt. Hearing that he wasn't considered pack. Sure he'd thought it for a while as well, that they only tolerated him because of Scott. But to have his fears confirmed like that. Stiles pushed his emotions to the side. “Never thought I was, as to what I am doing here, saving your asses.”

Derek glowered at that, but otherwise ignored the comment. “You have a black eye and you smell like blood. What happened?”

“Nothing, just some kids on the other team,” Stiles replied, hoping Derek would buy that excuse. Derek doesn't catch the lie, surprising considering he should be able to hear his heartbeat. 

Derek's eyebrows slid down further on his face, “You shouldn't be here, you're human, you're too weak.” Derek stomped off to god knows where to brood. Stiles would have shouted back something about him being dead if not for him, but he was feeling too good damned tired. Stiles glanced around the warehouse, Lydia and Jackson consoled each other, Allison stood around awkwardly, Scott glanced over at her constantly and asked Isaac if he was alright after being stabbed, despite the fact he had nearly healed by that point. Scott had yet to check on Stiles.

Stiles decided to go. He opened his jeep door, God he hoped it still worked, when finally Scott deemed him worthy of attention. Stiles knew he sounded jealous and spiteful, but he figured he'd earned the right to be a little angry. “Stiles are you ok? What happened?” Stiles figured that with his werewolf hearing he would have heard his earlier conversation, but apparently not. 

Stiles mentally rolled his eyes, “I'm fine, it was just some kids on the other team, I was shit talking them.”

Scott accepted the explanation with a nod, “You should go home Stiles, get some rest.” 

Stiles grinned at his friend's concern, “Yes, and whose fault is it that I'm out here in the first place.”

Scott's expression quickly changed to one of displeasure, “Oh, yeah, why didn't you come sooner? We could have used your help. You should have come when I texted you.”

Stiles was furious, but he couldn't let anyone know that. He mumbled an apology and got into his jeep. He drove away as fast as he could.  
…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed the scene with Stiles and his dad to add tension between them so what happens later on will make more sense.

**Author's Note:**

> What devil fruit should stiles get, post it in the comments.  
> Also this story is unbetad so please tell me if you see any errors.


End file.
